


Two Songbirds. One Green and the other Black.

by legitopal



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Birthday gift for the amAzing Emilia discord !!!, Happy birth my dear!!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legitopal/pseuds/legitopal
Summary: Daeron had never really given any thought to relationships, so why was he so wrapped up in him.





	Two Songbirds. One Green and the other Black.

Daeron had never really given any thought to relationships. Not really, at least not to the point other young men his age did. He did not delight in really thinking about his compatriots in that way, whether they be man or women, often, though as a artist, he had experimented. On average though, he found that he was far too busy to dabble in such a seemingly messy and frequently overly dangerous endeavor. If he was being honest he thought himself too smart for such nonsense.

  
So, why in Illuvatar’s name was he making the trek to a divine-forsaken frozen hellscape to meet with an elf who had killed many of his own kind?

Simple, his heart had betrayed him. The damned thing had allowed itself to be seduced and fall into its most base of interests, desires, and most importantly its lust. Daeron swore that there had to be a saying made up about the heart wanting what the heart wants and how that is horrible way to live your life.  
And why was it a horrible way to live? Well, simply put it made you want to see the object of your stupid affections, meaning for the poor and unfortunate like himself, Daeron had to travel quite a long ways away from home just to see him and what a him was he. He was one of the prettiest elves Daeron had ever seen.

His skin was kissed by light making it much darker than his milky complexation. His eyes were like garnets, piercing but soft in only a way he seemingly could do. His face, maybe his whole person, was dotted with little, well, dots, freckles everywhere, they made him seem youthful and very charming, which he was. His hair was dark and big and seemed to frame his head like a dark halo. But all that being said it wasn’t that he was just pretty, he was as mentioned before hopelessly charming. Daeron wondered if it was a family thing, or, dare he say something that came from his father. He knew how to choose his words, he was well-spoken in a way that Daeron had only encountered in himself. He could sing, gods, he could sing, he would remember hearing him for the first time forever, he was everything they said.

  
To say Daeron was not hooked would be a hopeless understatement but even then so hopelessly hopeless as he was for this other person, that he would risk treason to send letters back and forth on a too frequent basis, he had to admit traveling to see him was very stupid. He had agreed too soon, he thought, as he came to approach the gap, he could have been killed ten times over by orcs if he hadn’t been careful, or maybe this was some sort of trap. Daeron quickly shooed those thoughts away as he heard something behind him.

  
He turned around, and called out, stupidly, “who's there?”

  
“Your gracious host,” out of the woods came him, dressed in gold armor. He was riding not a horse, but a large black feline of some kind. “And, one who has very much wished to see your face.”

  
Daeron almost wished to blush, but he wouldn’t be taken down that easily. “You wish to see mine and yet I cannot see yours?”

  
He laughed, “of course, of course.”

  
He brought his feline closer, and took off his helmet, and smiled. “I really have missed you.”

  
“You're so familiar,” Daeron told him almost chastisingly. “This is the second time I have seen your face.”

  
“But your letters are always so nice, I feel like I know that person in them. So I say again, I have missed you.”

  
“You are a charmer, Maglor.”

  
“If so, I must ask, are you charmed?”

  
“Ask me that at the end of my visit.”

  
The Noldor Elf smiled, “as you wish.”

\---------

  
The first thing Daeron noticed about Maglor’s fortress was how imposing it looked. It was not like home, there was no faint feeling of whimsy or artisan beauty, this was a military fortress and it looked it with its dark black stone and frightening height, the Noldorian builders really knew how to terrify.

Maglor seemed to sense this and while riding next to him assured him that while he was here no harm would come to him, after all, he was a guest and the Noldor treated their guests well, adding that “we treat them in the opposite way we treat our enemies.” Daeron did not ask him to delve into what that truly meant. Dismounting, someone took both his horse and Maglor’s feline away and the two entered.

  
The inside was something much different from the outside, the inner fortress was, dare he say, homely compared to its facade. He saw that there were paintings, intricate stone work, carvings, sculptures, tapestries everywhere. It was much more Daeron’s style.

  
“Many of my people where not always soldiers, many were people of the arts like me, so we like to decorate when we are not fighting.”

  
“I can see that, I like it.”

  
The light praise made Daeron’s host stand a little straighter as he brought him through the halls of their fortress eventually coming to a set of gold doors, where magpies were painted on each. Daeron was no fool, he knew what was behind those doors. He looked to his host, “pretty presumptuous, no?”

  
“I thought it would be for the best,”

Maglor smiled. “I can keep the best watch on you.”

  
“Do you not trust me?”

  
“I trust you, I just wish to soak up as much as your image as I can while I have you.”

  
Daeron flicked his hair, “as you wish. I must say you have at least good taste.”

  
Maglor laughed as he opened the door to his room which was built for prince. Lots of gold, he was starting to see a theme with Noldor and their gold, lots of black, which seemed to be Maglor’s style. Which Daeron felt like commenting on and he dropped onto Maglor’s bed, tired from days of traveling.

  
“Why all the black?”

  
“What do you mean.” Maglor sat next to him slowly pulling off pieces of his armor.

  
“You have black sheets, black furs, black everything. Aren’t you feanorians supposed to be obsessed with red?”

  
“Maybe some of my brothers are, but it never spoke to me.”

  
“Spoke to you?”

  
“Too....out there. Don’t tell anyone but my favorite color is actually purple.”  
Daeron hummed and kicked off his boots, and fully got into the bed. Maglor only laughed, “was the journey rough?”

  
“Very, it's too cold here.”

  
“Not every place can be eternally spring.”

  
“Every place should.”

  
“I think the cold would do you good. Maybe it would toughen you up.”

  
“I don’t need toughening up, you like me soft.”

  
Maglor gave him a suggestive smile, “yes. Yes, I do.”

  
“Do you need help getting that all off?”

  
“No, no, I will be okay.” He got up and went behind a paper sheet where he undressed, the candle light behind him framing his whole body as he did so. It was almost torturous and most certainly intentional. After a few painful moments, Maglor emerged, this time dressed in black fitting shirt, with tapered harem pants and the most important part of this whole ensemble his long robe that trailed behind him. It was delicately made, designed with gold roses and one single grey bird on the back, another magpie.  
“How do I look?”

  
“Good,” Daeron replied. “You look better with your hair like that.”

  
His hand went to his now let down hair, fluffy and as poofy as ever. “You’re sweet.”

  
“I have to be because I probably look disgusting.”

  
Maglor laid down next to him, “Only a little bit disgusting. I take it as collateral damage.”

  
Daeron laughed, then paused and turned over to meet Maglor’s eyes, then spoke, “it is weird to hear your voice outside of my head when I read your letters.”

  
“Is it a bad weird or a good weird,” the other eleg asked.

  
“A good weird,” Daeron assured him, though in a way, also assuring himself.  
“Then let’s continue making this good. I hate to have you come all this way only to have you not enjoy yourself.”

  
Daeron let his hand go to Maglor’s cheek, where Maglor brought his hands up to meet his hand. They were soft for the hands of a killer. “I think as long as I am with you I will enjoy myself immensely, your highness.”

  
With that he brought himself down to kiss him, just like he said he might in a letter or two, Maglor closing his eyes for it to happen, when the door opened.  
More like slammed, pulling the two apart.  
A rather stone faced women stood at the doors, her hands now behind her back. She quipped something to Maglor in Quenya, and Maglor bit back (with undisguised bitterness). The woman looked unperplexed though and after a few minutes of the two sending jab and jab to each other she dispersed and left Daeron and Maglor the only two left in the room. He sighed and Daeron got up and slowly wrapped his arms around him, trying to comfort him. The motion was a little awkward, a little hesitant, but Maglor seemed to melt into it.

  
“What was wrong?”

  
“Nothing, nothing. I just have nasty friends.”

  
“Oh?”

  
Maglor did not go into detail, “they have made up a bath for you, to wipe off all that travel musk honestly.”

  
“I think you like it.”

  
“In your dreams, Daeron,’ Maglor smiled. Daeron loved it when he could make the other smile.

\---------

The baths of the fortress were very humid, which was nice for Daeron’s cold bones. As Maglor brought him in, some people gave the two looks but Maglor didn’t seem to mind, if anything he seemed happy to receive them. He happily held Daeron’s hand, as if to say ‘yes, he is mine’ and Daeron noted he'd have to chastize Maglor again for his over familiarity though he didn’t mind it. He, ashamedly, kind of liked being an object of spectacle and (more importantly) an object of devotion.

  
Finally coming to an empty pool, Daeron started to strip like he would do normally but his host seemed to be taken back.  
“Do the Noldor not take baths naked?” He asked, as he lost his shirt and let it fall to the ground.

  
Maglor only coughed, “well, we tend to have more restraint when stripping in front of others?”

  
Daeron shrugged and pulled off his trousers, “call me unrestrained then.”

  
He then easily slipped into the warm waters of the bath, letting his head dunk under, so he could really find himself refreshed. When he wiped his eyes, he saw that Maglor was staring at him. It was hard for Daeron to really know when Maglor was embarrassed, as unlike him his face did not turn into a hideous shade of red when he became embarrassed, instead Daeron found himself looking towards his eyes to tell if he was. They really were the most expressive part of Maglor’s body.

  
“Like what you see, darling,” Daeron purred, and Maglor’s eyes went as wide dinner plates and his hand went to his mouth to hide a small smile.

  
“Oh hush.”

  
“How about you come in with me it could be fun?”

  
“Now who is being overly familiar?”

  
“I am just paying back in kind, darling.”

  
“Well, I don’t think I wanna get my hair wet.”

  
“Then at least put your feet in?”

  
After a few moments, Maglor had put his feet in, not caring if his pants were soaked. The two of them talked for a little bit about things that hardly mattered. They flirted and teased each other as well, it was as if their letters had become reality. Soon one of Maglor’s handmaids came in and gave them some oils and soaps so Daeron wouldn’t smell like a frog, in Maglor’s own words. The lady and Maglor seemed to share a few words, she actually kind of looked like him in a way. Though her face was rounder and her eyes were a brilliant shade of emerald, all and all she was much cuter than him, but he didn’t quite know what he noticed that fact. Maybe it was the way her and Maglor talked in familiar tones, he felt something hit him in his cold little heart that he suspected was jealousy.

He had heard a rumor in the early months of the two’s interactions via letter that Maglor was married. He had been quick to confront the other, and he admitted that he was in fact married, the important word being was. The marriage had been happy but ultimately not what the other had wanted, and the two had gone on separate paths. Maglor even claimed that she had moved on to date one of Maglor’s dearest friends in the gap, he had signed off that letter saying that his heart was firmly in Daeron’s hands and he understood if he was no longer interested in him after this fact had been admitted.

  
Daeron had replied to him he didn’t understand what he meant by ‘no longer interested’ and quoted that the Noldorian psyche was a mystery to him. The thought of Maglor’s wife had not been brought forth to him since that discussion but he now wondered if this Noldorian flower was the woman in question.

As she left, Maglor gave him a look taking one of the small vials of palish and cute liquid into his hands and spoke, “green, my dear, is not a good color on you.”

  
“I don’t know what you mean.”

  
“I think you do,” Maglor mused, and motioned with his finger to come closer, which he did. “I think you have some jealousy issues.”

  
“Hardly, how dare you inflame my character in such a way?”

  
“I only say what I see, and your face when poor Calima came in was not forthcoming of you.”

  
“I don’t know what you mean,” Daeron repeated as Maglor opened the vial and let its contents drip into Daeron’s hair before he started to massage it and weave it into it in a most calming way.

  
“In all honesty, I think it’s cute.”

  
Daeron only hummed, his eyes closed at the calming motions that Maglor’s hands took at his scalp. He did not expect the sudden stop nor the water that would hit his head. Maglor only smiled at his momentary discomfort. Maglor soon then pulled himself out of the water and left him saying that he would be back with towels and new clothes. Daeron let him go and remained in the nice warm waters for as long as he could, taking some of the other vials to wash down his body and make himself smell like the uppercrust silver spoon fed boy that he was.

Though he felt as if he was still being watched. He looked over to see the woman from before, formal and professional, watching from the sidelines. Her eyes piercing into him as if evaluating his whole person, when Maglor returned, his eyes were still glued to the woman.

  
Maglor gave him an odd look, “what are you looking at?”

  
“Huh?” He looked at Maglor, “there was just someone standing there looking at me.”

  
He looked back as if to show Maglor what he meant and the women was gone. Maglor only looked perplexed rather than unbelieving though. “How odd, but none the matter let them stare at you in this.”  
He let his hands gesture to the the clothes he had brought with them, “they are handpicked.”

  
Daeron started to get out of the bath, Maglor eyes once again widened and he quickly turned away giving him a towel for his trouble. Daeron laughed at his shyness. “Why are you looking away, it’s not like we both don’t have the same things.”

  
“It’s different,” Maglor admitted still looking away.

“If you say so, darling.”

  
After Daeron dried off, he finally got a good look at his new clothes. They were, in the most simple terms, very pretty. Like Maglor’s they had a sort of simple elegance to them, but at the same time had that Noldorian sense of extravagance and willingness to shove their wealth in other’s faces. The outfit was mostly all green with silver trimmings, a soft shirt and poofy trousers that made for good lounging wear but the real stand out was the robe. It looked as if it was the sister of Maglor’s. It was long like Maglor’s, soft like Maglor’s, loose like Maglor’s and had a black magpie on the back like his as well. The only difference was that his was a dark rich green rather than a pitch coal black and had silver orchids rather than gold roses.

  
“Do you like it?” Maglor asked, his voice confident but his eyes soft.

  
“I adore it, we will be matching.”

  
Maglor’s face broke into a grin and Daeron felt his face do the same.

\----------

At dinner, Daeron found that despite their reputation the Noldor seemed to know how to have a good time. Their dinner was not a sit down feast but rather an open one where people were freely able to grab whatever they wanted then sit around one of the largest fires Daeron had ever seen. One of the smaller things that caught Daeron’s attention was that Maglor had in his service plenty of what Daeron assumed were men, whom Daeron had actually never seen before.

  
“Of course I do, they are fighting for the same thing we are and they tell the best ‘folk’ stories,” Maglor replied when he asked him why he employed them. “I hate to admit it but their food is to die for.”

  
Daeron and Maglor found themselves curled together in front of the fire, eating and drinking as if they were perfectly normal. It seemed that here no one gave them looks, everyone too busy in their own business to worry about theirs.

  
“So how has your first day been so far with me?” Maglor asked, as he took a ship of his wine, “worth the long journey?”

  
“It was, I think. I think your home is much more beautiful than you give it credit for in your letters.”

  
“This is nothing, my home in Valinor was beautiful too.”

  
“Tell me what it was like again there?”

  
“But you ask for that all the time in you're letters, i don’t know what more you wish for me to explain.”

  
“Maybe I just like hearing you talk about things that make you happy.”

  
“Then let me talk about you then because you make me happy.”

  
“Do I?”

  
“Of course.”

  
“Then go on, inflate my ego your majesty.”

  
And to Daeron’s surprise he did. He mused about Daeron’s silky hair and how fun it was to play with as he did so in real time, and how light Daeron was both in humor and in strength noting that it wasn’t an insult but rather kind of adorable how delicate he was and how he would lose a fight to a kitten. Which in itself led to a long durge about why Dearon made him happy how Daeron was one of the few elements of his life that wasn’t poisoned by promises and family drama that he was free to love him and not feel as if he was betraying all that he stood for as a person, ending with saying that every letter he got from Daeron was one more time where he found himself happy during times where it seemed almost impossible. Daeron found himself at a loss for words, all he could do was hug him. He held him, and he at the same time was held.

  
“I’m sorry,” Maglor laughed. “The wine must be getting to me.”

“Funny because I feel the same way.”

  
“About the wine or--” Maglor trailed off.

  
“Both.”

  
Maglor eyes lit up as if they were ignited by fire. “Would you like to accompany me back to my chambers.”

  
“Lead the way, your highness.”

\-------

They didn’t talk much as Maglor led Daeron down the winding halls to his chambers. Opening the door, Daeron figured he should maybe take the lead as a thank you for being such a good host.

He led Maglor to the bed, where he gently pushed Maglor to sit on it. He slowly slipped off both his and Maglor’s robes and then straddled the other elf, his lips quickly on the other’s. He let his hands travel under Maglor’s shirt and went to pull it off yet he stopped himself.  
He felt like something was off.  
Maglor’s hands frazzled and twitched as if they didn’t know what to do, his body language was stiff and uncentered, it did not leak his charismatic charm or confidence. Daeron pulled away and Maglor's eyes were closed and his breathing was quick.

  
“What’s wrong?” He asked quick to be off of him and give the other some space.

  
“It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” Maglor said quickly. “Ignore it.”

  
“I don’t want to ignore it, dear,” He got on his knees at Maglor’s feet and tried to meet his eyes which were centered firmly at the ground, “what’s wrong?”

  
“I haven’t--I don’t know how--I’ve never--” Maglor started all three sentences but never finishes them but he didn't have to Daeron was smart enough to get the idea and did not press for a explanation. At least not tonight. 

  
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to dear.”

  
“But you want to...”

  
“I only went in because I thought you wanted to, darling. Simple as that, plus, it’s hardly becoming to do that on the first date any way.”

  
Maglor met his eyes finally, “you’re not mad?”

  
“Hardly, though I have to ask, can we still lay together at least?”

  
“Of course,” Maglor said quickly. “Always.”

  
The two then moved and became comfortable together in bed, Daeron wrapped Maglor into his arms and thought to himself that this was perfect and that this was where he wanted to be forever and inside him he knew that Maglor felt the same way.

  
So, in the end it was worth making the day long trek to a divine-forsaken frozen hellscape to meet with a elf who had killed many of his own kind, because in the end he admitted to his own treasonous heart that they were right, he did love him.

  
And he always would.


End file.
